


Shine Like the Sun

by jenish (phizzle)



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: AU, M/M, community:damnyouwentz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-24
Updated: 2006-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/jenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For forgetfulone in the second DYW fic exchange. Beta by laurelcrowned.</p><p>The cat is not Spencer, it is just a cat called Spencer.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Shine Like the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> For forgetfulone in the second DYW fic exchange. Beta by laurelcrowned.
> 
> The cat is not Spencer, it is just a cat called Spencer.

Summer crashed in early that year, hot and sticky. Brendon borrowed Frank's car and made the two-hour drive to the beach with the windows rolled down and Queen blasting on the stereo, arriving to find what looked like all of New Jersey emptied onto the one stretch of sand. He left his towel and dry clothes in the trunk, locking it tight and thanking whatever had decided to make swimming shorts with zip-up pockets, and made his way through the crowds to where the Atlantic slapped the shore.

The water was cool on his back as he walked in, turned over, and started swimming. Closing his eyes against the salt and taking a breath, he curled in and span around and struck out, swimming around families splashing in the shallows and out over the waves, past a few surfboards, until he had a space of ocean to himself. He dived, swam, swooped underwater, came up for breaths and went back down again. The sun shone, glistening on the waves and the droplets of water in his hair.

After about an hour, he swam back to shore and sat on the flattest part of a rock pool's edge, leaning back a little and turning his face to the sky. He heard a movement next to him and opened one eye to look.

A skinny boy about the same age as him, with brown hair falling in his eyes and a look of concentration on his face, was searching the rocks for something. He caught Brendon's eye and gave him a half-smile, which Brendon returned, feeling his heart thump against his ribs. The boy didn't seem to find what he was looking for, and left the rocks.

Brendon watched him go.

When he pulled into the parking lot back home, the door banged and Frank emerged. "I thought you'd never fucking bring my car back," he said, as Brendon threw him the keys. "What took you so long?"

"It's a nice day out," Brendon shrugged. "And I saw this really cute guy. Thought maybe I'd see him again."

"Stalker." Frank made to flick Brendon's ear, but Brendon moved out of the way. "Mikey's car broke down, I have to go pick him up so we can see Gerard."

"Oh. Sorry," Brendon offered, taking his things out of the trunk, wet shorts wrapped in his towel. "If I'd known I wouldn't have stayed out so long."

Frank shrugged. "'S okay. Visiting hours aren't over yet."

"How is he?" The asking was automatic, but meant.

"Doing good, yeah. Thanks. I'll tell him you said hey." Frank started the engine and backed out of the lot. Brendon got his keys out and went inside.

A tabby kitten greeted him at the door, purring and rubbing against his ankles. "Hey Spence," Brendon picked the kitten up. "You hungry?" He petted the cat and carried him to the kitchen, shaking out some food into a small bowl. He set Spencer down in front of it, filling the water bowl at the tap, catching some in a glass for himself afterwards. He sipped it, flicking through his CD collection, selecting a Frou Frou album and starting the player up.

Frank knocked on the door as Brendon was watching his mini pizza spin in the microwave. "So Gerard says good luck tomorrow," Frank told him as he put his feet on the coffee table, Spencer climbing into his lap and meowing. He petted the kitten, who sat down and purred.

"Tell him thanks," Brendon called as the microwave pinged. He took the pizza out and dropped it onto a plate, emerging from the kitchen and sitting next to Frank on the couch. "He still doing okay?"

"Yeah. Only a couple more weeks and he can come home." Frank worked his fingertips into Spencer's fur, receiving a steady purr and claws working at the fabric of his jeans, in and out. "Dude, your cat loves me."

"I know." Brendon chewed a mouthful of pizza and swallowed. "He doesn't love me, do you Spencer?" Brendon nuzzled the kitten's head with one hand, and Spencer tipped his chin up, nudging at Brendon's fingers with his nose. "Okay, maybe you do love me a little bit." Spencer licked at Brendon's knuckles with a sandpaper tongue.

"Maybe more than a little bit," Frank giggled. Brendon popped the last bite of pizza into his mouth and set the plate aside, taking the cat from Frank's lap.

"Yeah, me and Spence here, we're like _that_," and Brendon held crossed fingers up. Spencer settled himself on Brendon's lap and began washing himself.

"Shall I leave you two alone on your honeymoon?" Frank grinned at him.

"Shut up. Allow me to love my cat, I've only had him for two weeks."

"Yeah, just make sure you get him done soon. Or don't let him meet that Swedish chick from upstairs' cat."

"I'll have you know Spencer is a perfect gentleman," Brendon told him, affecting a faux British accent that fell a little flat. Frank laughed anyway.

When he left that night, he clapped Brendon on the shoulder and said, "Listen, you'll do fine tomorrow."

"Thanks, Frank. You coming over tomorrow night? There's a Marilyn Monroe marathon on TV."

"You, me and the blonde bombshell? Count me in. See you," and he petted Spencer as he passed.

Brendon woke with a start the next morning, feeling something soft against his chin, then his nose. He opened his eyes, saw what looked like a very large paw heading for his chin again and a small furry nose retreating from his, and sat up. "Alright, Spencer, I'm awake," he mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looked at the alarm clock. "I swear, you're better than this thing." He moved the switch on the back so it wouldn't go off in two minutes, and swung his legs out of the bed. Spencer followed him, meowing plaintively, as he stumbled to the bathroom. "In a _minute_," he muttered, closing the door on a very disgruntled cat, who sat outside and kept up the plaintive meows until Brendon re-emerged and put Spencer's breakfast out. Brendon headed back to the shower.

He'd memorised the walk to the record store after the interview, and it was kind of nice. The sun was already up, and fluffy white clouds made their way across the sky, a perfect stretch of blue. Brendon passed people walking their dogs, joggers, and steered around a lump covered in foul-smelling blankets huddled against a wall. When he got to the store, he let himself in the back door and immediately came face to face with the manager and a large stack of boxes. "Hi," he said.

"Good, you're early." Bob handed him a box. "Could you take these to the stock room, and pile them on the left of the door?"

"No problem, Mr Morris." Start as you mean to go on. Brendon took the box, glad that a perfunctory tour of the place had come with the interview, and went straight to the stock room.

He stopped short when he got there. The boy he'd seen at the beach the day before was perched on one pile of boxes, examining a clipboard and marking it with a pencil. He looked up when Brendon put the box in his hands down. "Hi," Brendon said, smiling at him. "I'm Brendon, I just started today."

The boy hopped onto the floor and offered the same half-smile from the day before in return. "Nice to meet you, Brendon. Those the new shipment?"

"Yeah. There's six more, I'd better go grab the next one."

"Okay." The boy bent over the box, read the label, and made a mark on his clipboard.

Brendon returned with the next box and placed it carefully on top of the first. "So, do you have a name?" he asked, part awkward, part joking. The boy looked at him and gave him a real smile.

"Ryan," he said, holding a hand out. Brendon shook it.

"I saw you at the beach yesterday," he blurted out as Ryan made to turn back to his clipboard.

"Yeah." Brendon watched him fiddle with his pen, clicking it in and out.

"What were you looking for?"

"Shells." That was, apparently, all Brendon would be getting.

"Cool. Well, I look forward to working with you," he said, and inwardly cringed at himself. Ryan looked amused.

"Yeah, you too."

Brendon nodded, once, paused for a second awkwardly, and then went to get the next box.

He didn't get a spare minute for the next hour and a half. Bob set him to work pricing the new shipment, then rearranging the shelves, and by the time he was done he really, really needed some coffee. There was a tiny room with a sink and a small microwave and fridge, and he filled the kettle and set it to boil, raiding the cupboards for mugs. There were a few, and a packet of instant grounds, and he made a pot. When he took mugs out to Bob and Ryan, who were working the tills, Bob laughed at the delighted face Ryan made.

"I think you just made a new best friend," he chuckled. Ryan breathed in the vapours, seeming not to hear Bob.

At eleven thirty, Bob said he could stop for lunch. Brendon turned to Ryan and asked, "Want to go get something to eat?"

Ryan shrugged. "Sure. I don't have class for a couple of hours. I'm done here for today."

"You're at college? What are you studying?" Brendon held the door open for Ryan as they left, Ryan waving at Bob.

"Music, mostly."

"Awesome! Is that what you want to do? Music? Like, your career?"

Ryan nodded. "I want to be a musician. Or a producer. Ideally, I'd like both."

"Sounds great."

"Yeah. So what about you?" It was the first direct question Ryan had asked him, and Brendon shot a look at him. Ryan was watching him out of the corner of his eye. Brendon tried not to blush.

"Me? I don't know. I mean, I love music, I play guitar and stuff, and I used to play piano back home. I don't have one here, though."

Ryan nodded, listening. Brendon looked at him again.

"So, where are you from? You don't have a Jersey accent," he said. Ryan gave him a splinter of a smile.

"Neither do you," he replied. "I'm from Las Vegas, actually."

"No way. Me too," Brendon exclaimed. "You serious?"

"You're from Vegas too?" Ryan stopped, then. Brendon nodded. "Didn't want to stay, huh?"

Brendon made a face and started walking again, Ryan falling into step just behind him. "My parents basically said either I go to college, or I do my service for the church, or I leave. So I left."

"I'm sorry." Ryan paused. "Service for the church?" he asked.

"My family's Mormon," Brendon explained. "I'm not. They weren't happy about that."

"Oh." Ryan changed the subject. "How'd you end up here?"

"It's as far from Vegas as you can get, pretty much. You?"

"College," was all Ryan said, and Brendon nodded. "It's okay here. Kind of cold, but okay."

"Yeah, I mean, I've been here a year or something, winter was _freezing_. God, don't you just miss the desert in like, November?"

"Yeah." Ryan pointed to a coffee place they were passing. "Want to eat here? They have some good food, bagels and stuff."

"Sure." Brendon was in the mood for something toasted, and possibly creamy. He found the perfect thing, ordered it, and sat down at a table outside, fiddling with the straw of his lemonade. Ryan sat opposite with his. "How long have you been here?" Brendon picked up the conversation again.

"Just finishing sophomore year," Ryan told him. "Why the third degree?"

"This isn't the third degree," Brendon protested. "I'm just interested."

Ryan shrugged. "I'm not all that interesting."

Brendon regarded him. "Yes you are," he said.

"I'm not," but there was something like the beginnings of a smile on Ryan's lips.

"Are. I want to know things! Like, what do you do for fun?"

Ryan laughed, at that one. "You're not going to stop, are you?" he asked, looking fully at Brendon. Brendon grinned and shook his head. "Fine. I play guitar, I sing, I read, I watch movies, I hang out. The usual."

"Do you have any pets?"

"No. Do you?"

"Yeah, I got a cat a couple of weeks ago. His name's Spencer."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "He named after anyone?"

"No, I just thought it'd be a cool name for a cat," Brendon shrugged. "Why, do you know someone called Spencer?"

"Yeah. My first boyfriend, actually."

Brendon felt the tips of his ears go pink. "Oh."

Ryan watched him. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"What? The boyfriend thing or the name of my cat thing?"

"The boyfriend thing," Ryan replied, mouth twitching up a little. _He's enjoying this_, Brendon thought.

"No. I mean, it'd only really be weird if you had a dog called Charlie or something. He was mine."

Ryan's eyebrows met his hairline for a second. "First boyfriend?" Brendon nodded. "Do you two still talk?"

"Me and Charlie? God no, that was years ago. Why, do you and Spencer?"

Ryan nodded. "We grew up together. He's one of my best friends."

"How does _that_ work, being your ex and stuff?"

"I don't know." Ryan shrugged. "It just does. He's at UCLA, we call each other and stuff. It just … does."

"Oh." Brendon paused to take that in for a second. "You know, I don't think I've ever stayed friends with an ex."

"Spencer's the only one I still talk to," Ryan said. "Most of the others have been girls, so, I don't know. Maybe that has something to do with it."

"Could be. All mine are guys." Brendon shrugged.

"Really." It wasn't a question, and Brendon got the distinct feeling Ryan had known all along.

  
Spencer greeted him at the door again after work, mewing loudly and shooting pointed looks at the kitchen door. "Sorry, but I'm going to be getting home late with this job," Brendon told him, shaking out the food into Spencer's bowl. "And did you know, you have a namesake running around LA who used to date the cute guy at work?" Spencer didn't reply, he just started on his dinner and ignored Brendon.

"Hey, so how'd it go?" Frank asked when he came over, cans of Mount Dew in one hand and a pizza box in the other. Brendon had grabbed at both.

"Pretty good. I think the manager likes me."

"Told you you had nothing to worry about." Frank grinned.

"Yeah, let's just wait a week and see if I don't do something to screw it up."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Stop sleeping with your bosses," he said, opening a can. Brendon flipped him off.

"That happened _once_," he said.

"Twice," Frank reminded him.

"Fine, okay, twice."

"Actually, just don't fuck anyone at work. You tend to keep more jobs that way."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Hey, at least I'm outside the workplace."

Brendon punched him on the arm. Frank laughed. "Yeah, whatever. I've been waiting for a job like this, and it's actually in this town. No more bus at dawn."

"Score," Frank agreed, and changed the subject. "Hey, are you still coming on Wednesday?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Why?"

"Well, remember Bert, the guy Gerard was rooming with?"

"The one with the crazy hair?"

"That's him. He's back, just so you know."

"Shit, didn't he just get out like, two weeks ago?"

"Yeah. I guess he keeps relapsing, you know?"

"I guess." Brendon blew the air out of his cheeks. "Man, and I'm worrying about my job. At least I'm – y'know. Okay. You know?"

Frank nodded. "Congratulate yourself on not being an alcoholic," he said, dryly.

Brendon examined his hands. "I didn't mean it like –"

"It's okay," Frank interrupted him. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. Can happen to anyone, right? It just, happened to Gerard."

"Yeah, but I mean, he's fixing it," Brendon said, every cell in his body feeling displaced and awkward.

"He is. And I'm fucking proud of him." Frank looked around, seeming to become aware of him suddenly. "Hey, if you don't want to talk about this –"

"I do if you do," Brendon said, quickly. "I mean, I can listen, or, anything."

"Thanks, man," Frank said, and Brendon nodded. "But it's okay. _I'm_ okay."

Brendon just nodded again.

  
Ryan turned down the offer of lunch the next day, saying he was working through so he could finish early. The day after, he just shook his head. "I have homework," he said, and disappeared into the stock room. Brendon deflated.

The day after that, though, Ryan said how about the same place as before. Brendon stopped, surprised, and Ryan gave him that partial smile.

"I'm free today," he said. "No class."

"Great," Brendon recovered, and led the way outside.

They were silent for a minute as they walked. "Aren't you going to ask me anything?" Ryan said at last.

"Well, I figured I'd give you a window of opportunity to do the asking," Brendon smiled at him. Ryan looked away.

"What do you want me to ask?"

Brendon shrugged. "Anything. Anything you want to know."

"Alright." Ryan was quiet for a minute. "What's the last record you bought?"

"Maroon 5," Brendon replied. "What about you?"

"Anna Nalick."

They lapsed into silence again that lasted until they arrived and ordered. "You can ask more than one question, you know," Brendon said.

"I can't think of anything," Ryan replied.

"Well, how about if I ask, then?"

"Shoot." Ryan settled back like he'd been waiting for this.

"Okay." Brendon paused to take a bite of his sandwich. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Blue. Yours?"

"Red. What do you miss most about Vegas?"

"I don't know. My friends, I guess, but I see them in vacation and stuff."

"Oh. Are you going back for the summer?"

"Yeah, I've got another week here."

"Oh." Brendon paused. "But you'll be back after, right?"

Ryan nodded. "Bob's always got my job open when I'm here. He's kind of a family friend."

"Oh. Well, good then. I've just got to make sure I still have this job in the fall, right?"

Ryan gave him a smile then that held warmth in it. "Right," he said.

  
"Brendon, did your cat escape and try to get through my door today?" Frank indicated scratch marks on his apartment's door.

"Not unless he broke back in again before I got back from work. Maybe it was the Swedish chick's."

Frank sighed, closing Brendon's door and flopping on the couch. "I guess I'd better call someone and get it fixed." Brendon sat next to him, holding out a can. Frank took it gratefully; the air conditioning only worked in half of his apartment and he held the cool aluminium to his forehead.

"Yeah, I guess so. So um, Frankie, you know that cute guy I said I saw at the beach last week?"

"Oh, you mean the one you were stalking?" Frank poked him in the side.

"Fuck off, I wasn't. He, um, he works at the store. His name's Ryan. And apparently, his first boyfriend was called Spencer."

Frank raised one eyebrow. "Really? Interesting."

"That's what I said." Brendon grinned.

"So how long's it going to take you to get in his pants? Because I think your record is four hours, right?"

"Shut up, Iero, it was three. No one can resist me."

Frank laughed. "I'm pretty immune, Urie."

"Yeah, but you've got that boyfriend you're disgustingly in love with. That doesn't count."

Frank threw a piece of pepperoni at him. Brendon dodged it. "Have you asked him out yet?" Frank asked.

"Kind of. We've had lunch a few times, but it wasn't like … a date, you know? Just kind of. Lunch. Because it was lunch time."

"Lunch, a few times, with a cute guy, who is gay, and it's not a date? What, are you losing your touch?"

Brendon punched him on the arm. "Firstly, he's not gay, he's bi. Secondly, I … I don't know. I didn't want to like, push too far, I guess." He felt his cheeks go hot, and looked away so Frank wouldn't notice.

He did anyway. "Brendon, you _like_ this guy," he pointed out, gleefully.

"Fuck off," Brendon replied, but he didn't say anything else. Frank was about to poke him, but stopped.

"Wait. Wait, you _do_ like this guy," Frank said.

"That's not it," Brendon protested, but it didn't even sound convincing to him. "I have to work with him, Frank, I don't want to just like, hook up with him and have it be awkward. You know how much I want this job."

"Yeah, I know." Frank paused. "You know when I met Gerard? I told you about that, right?"

Brendon shrugged. "Kinda. I mean, you said you were in his band but it broke up before it really went anywhere, but you two ended up together."

"Right. Well, when I first met him, we were in rival bands, but he really loved mine and came to see us play and I'd see this kid like, just on the edge of the floor watching us. Then I saw him play and his band were fucking shit, but he had this _presence_ I couldn't take my eyes off, you know? And we sort of started hanging out, just when our bands were playing the same shows, and then he asked me to be in a new band he had, and I said sure. I thought he was a great guy, and really hot, and if he – if it hadn't been that situation, I would have like, just hooked up with him then, you know?"

Brendon nodded. "But you didn't."

"No, not until this one night, after the show and Mikey says he wants to talk to me, takes me outside and just punches me right in the jaw and says if I screw his brother around he'd have my fucking kneecaps. I say what the fuck does he mean by that, and he says he means exactly what he fucking said and goes back inside. And Gerard comes out right after and I ask him what the fuck is going on and he just starts making out with me. So I figure, oh, right. Okay then." Frank shrugged.

"How romantic," Brendon ruffled his hair.

"Shut the fuck up." Frank rolled his eyes. "But, do you get it?"

"Get what?"

Frank laughed. "This guy at work, asshole! I held off on hooking up with Gerard for the sake of the band, but it folded anyway. A job is a job, if you like this guy, ask him out."

"And if he says no? Or if it all goes wrong? I've been waiting for a job like this, Frankie. I need the money."

"I know, bills and shit, cats don't feed themselves, _I know_. But just think about it, okay? There are other record stores in this town."

"Yeah, but Bob's like, a family friend to Ryan --"

Frank shook his head in exasperation. "Brendon, _there are other record stores_. Are there other Ryans?"

"I – no."

"Then ask him the fuck out and don't whine to me about it."

"He's leaving, anyway. For the summer, he's – he's at college."

Frank eyeballed him. "So ask him the fuck out before he goes."

Brendon sighed.

  
Two days later, Bob looked up as Brendon tried to sidle his way in the door unnoticed. "You're late," he said.

"Um," Brendon swallowed. "I'm sorry, Mr Morris. My kitchen flooded this morning, I had to get my neighbour to drive me in, and my cat's still there –"

Bob held up a hand. "See it doesn't happen again," he said, and Brendon nodded.

"Yes, sir, it won't." He struggled out of his jacket and hung it up, going to the stock room to catalogue the DVDs.

Ryan was in there already, making notes. "Who was that in the car?" he asked, not looking up. "Boyfriend?"

Brendon blinked at him for a second before he laughed. "What, Frank? No way. He's my best friend, he lives across the hall from me. And he has this boyfriend he's, like, almost married to. It's kind of sweet."

Ryan nodded acknowledgement, but didn't say anything else. He'd turned down lunch the day before, saying he had homework. "Bob," he called, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Good luck," Bob called back. Brendon watched as Ryan left, then turned to Bob. "Last exams," he explained before Brendon could open his mouth.

"Oh."

"Listen," Bob said, and everything from the way he was standing to his tone of voice made Brendon's stomach drop, "Ryan's a nice kid. He's kind of shy, until you get to know him. Just don't push him, okay?"

"Wh-"

Bob patted him on the shoulder. "Give him time to get used to you," he said, and Brendon looked at him incredulously.

"Why does everyone want me to ask Ryan out?" he blurted, too little sleep and too much water in the kitchen and too much worry whether Spencer was alright in there and not eating the paper towels he'd put all over the floor.

"I – I meant if you want him as a friend," Bob frowned, taken aback. Brendon covered his face with his hands.

"I'm so sorry. This morning has not been good. I'm sorry. I'll – would you like some coffee?" He didn't meet Bob's eyes.

"Yes." Brendon nodded, and went to the percolator, hoping somehow that by the time he got back the day would have started over and he could stop putting his foot in things.

When he got back that night, the floor was still soggy and Spencer was hiding out in his bed, sulking. Brendon sighed and did his best to clean up the mess. He'd called maintenance at lunchtime, who had promised to get a plumber in but not for another couple of days. Brendon put Spencer's food down just outside the kitchen door, where the floor was almost dry, but Spencer ignored it. Brendon tried petting him, but the kitten just shifted away and flicked his tail.

Brendon sighed. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't make the pipe explode on purpose, don't be mad at me."

Spencer kept his back to him, tail still twitching.

"Fine. I'm going over to Frankie's, your food's by the kitchen door." He took his guitar with him and knocked on Frank's door.

"Sorry, Brendon, I have to go," Frank said when he'd pulled it open. "I switched shifts with Ray so I could see Gerard tomorrow. We'll hang out tomorrow night, yeah?"

"Yeah." Brendon stepped aside as Frank hurried past him, hastily locking the door.

Spencer was still sulking, and Brendon took one look at the kitchen and thought, fuck it. He set the guitar down and grabbed his jacket.

The evening was balmy and warm, but cool enough that he'd have shivered had he been wearing just a t-shirt. He walked, trying to decide where he'd go now. He didn't have enough money to see a movie, or for much of a dinner that wasn't fast food. He ran down his list of friends, wondering who to call.

He got his phone out and started scrolling through the numbers, so intent on them he almost bumped into someone.

"Oh – sorry," he huffed, then looked up. "Ryan," he blinked. "Hi."

Ryan was smiling. "Hey Brendon. Um, this is Jon," he said, and Brendon looked at the guy with Ryan. Short dark hair, and the kind of open face you can't help but like. "He's a friend of mine from college. Jon, this is Brendon. He works at the record store."

Jon's face changed and he glanced at Brendon, then at Ryan. "This is Brendon?" he asked, as if he suddenly understood something. Ryan nodded, giving him a look that very clearly told him to can it.

"What, did you talk about me?" Brendon grinned.

"Y- little bit," Jon narrowly avoided Ryan pressing his heel down onto Jon's foot. "Just, y'know, you're the new guy, right?"

"Yeah. So, what are you guys doing?"

"Celebrating. Our semester's over," Jon beamed, one arm slinging over Ryan's shoulders and the other raised into the air.

"Awesome."

"What about you, where are you going tonight? Got any plans? Hot date, maybe?"

"Uh." Brendon wondered for a second if Jon was flirting with him, but he didn't seem to be. "No, I was just thinking about who to call, go hang out with some friends, you know?"

"Well, you could hang out with us, if you want," Jon offered, feigning unawareness of Ryan's frantic 'Shut _up_' signals. "I mean, we've only got a couple more days before Ryan here goes home to Vegas, and I'm headed for Chicago after that. That's my hometown," he added, with a warm smile, and Brendon felt his bad day ebb away. "That is, unless you want to do stuff with your other friends, which is cool."

"No, I mean, I hadn't called anyone yet. I was thinking maybe Mikey, but … uh, no, um." He blushed. "I forgot, we … kind of stopped hanging out after last month."

"What happened last month?" Ryan asked. Brendon was almost startled to hear his voice.

"Um, we, uh, we kindofhadsex. Uh. So yeah, and uh, I guess I'm still not hanging out with Chris, or Travis, and _definitely_ not Pete." He looked at them. "Ex," he said, simply, and Jon looked sympathetic. "And uh." Brendon paused. "Shit, I don't think Bill wants to hang out either."

"Same reason?" Jon asked. Brendon nodded, sheepish. "Do you have any friends you _haven't_ slept with and who hate you now?"

"They don't hate me," Brendon protested. "And it sounds a lot worse when you say it like that. Of course I have other friends."

"Frank, right?" Ryan was smiling again; small, but there. _Fuck you_, Brendon thought.

"Come on," Jon put his other arm around Brendon's shoulders. "You just made two new friends you haven't slept with. And I'm straight, so I might even stick around, who knows."

Brendon laughed. "Okay, okay, I'm a loser, lead the way for a good time."

"That's the spirit," Jon grinned at him, and Ryan was swept along.

  
"So let me get this straight." Gerard looked better than Brendon had seen him in a while, and was practically sitting in Frank's lap. "You like him, he's leaving for the summer _tomorrow_, and, what, you're sitting here talking to me? Why aren't you _doing something_?"

Brendon gaped for a moment. "But – I don't think he likes me! I mean, not like – I don't thi- what?" he demanded, seeing the looks Frank and Gerard were giving each other.

"Jon gave you his number, right?" Frank said, slowly, as if Brendon would need it spelling out.

"Yeah," Brendon narrowed his eyes.

"If you're going to be chicken about this, call him and ask if Ryan likes you." Gerard grinned as Brendon's mouth did an impression of a guppy fish. "If you're not going to be chicken about this, go the fuck over there and do something about it."

"I-" Brendon started.

"No buts. Go, now, and bring Frank's car back when you're done." Gerard stared him down. "Go _on_."

Frank put his keys in Brendon's hand. "Look, do I have to fucking drive you there myself? Because I'll be pissed off if I do, I don't get enough time with his lordship here as it is." Gerard poked his arm in protest at being addressed as such, but Frank butterflied a kiss onto his nose and Gerard smiled.

"_Fine_, if you two are going to be nauseating," Brendon said at last, getting up. "I'll be back," he added.

He was half way to the college campus when he span the wheel, pulled up at the side of the road and stopped. He sat for a few seconds, then pulled his phone out and called Jon.

"Does Ryan like me?" he asked, almost before Jon had finished saying hello.

Jon audibly smiled. "I thought you'd never _ask_."

"That's a yes, then, is it?" Brendon was having difficulty swallowing; his heart had relocated to his throat and thumped there uncomfortably.

"Yes, that's a yes, and he's flying home today, not tomorrow, so you've got about an hour before he leaves."

"Shit." Brendon started the engine again and only tried not to break any laws because this was exactly the kind of time he'd get caught doing so and that would be just what he didn't need. He pulled up outside Ryan's building and Jon was waiting for him, rocking on the balls of his feet, grinning from ear to ear.

"I stalled him," he said when Brendon got out of the car and raced over. "Come on, he's in here." Jon held the door open for Brendon, who took the stairs two at a time until he reached Ryan's corridor and stopped, panting, at Ryan's door.

He knocked.

Ryan opened it. "I – Brendon?"

"Hi," Brendon wheezed, leaning one hand against the doorframe. "I, uh."

He heard Jon behind him. "He wants to come in. I'll see you outside, Ryan." Ryan blinked rapidly at Jon as Brendon caught his breath.

"Right. Uh, come in," Ryan said, standing aside.

Brendon had seen Ryan's room that night the three of them had hung out here. It looked bare, the posters taken down and everything gone. "So um," Brendon started. "You're, uh, you're off, then."

"Yeah." Ryan put his hands in his back pockets, nervously. "Listen, Brendon, can I ask a question?"

"Sure." Brendon wished his heart would just decide on where it wanted to beat and _stay there_.

"Will you – will you still be around when I get back?"

Brendon felt light-headed. "Do you want me to be?"

Ryan nodded, and Brendon took a step forward, and another.

"I will be," he said, and Ryan looked at him, and then Brendon leaned forward and kissed him.

Ryan's mouth was warm, and he pulled Brendon closer, and his arms went around Brendon's waist, and he was kissing Brendon back, warm and open and soft, and Brendon closed his eyes and felt – just, felt.

Ryan tipped their foreheads together when the kiss ended. "So I'll see you after the summer?" he asked.

"Definitely," Brendon breathed, and kissed him again.


End file.
